


A Little Royal Voe-Dee-Oh-Doe Won't Break His Heart

by amythis



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M, I blame Tom Lehrer, It's just that somehow S/S took over the prologue, This really is a Lavenny story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: "But if you, uh, want to throw in a little royal voe-dee-oh-doe after the ball, it won't break his heart" —Squiggy in "The Debutante Ball"
Relationships: Laverne De Fazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Shirley Feeney/Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggman
Comments: 15
Kudos: 7





	1. A Squiggley Prologue

Dear Diary,

...It was like a fairytale, watching Laverne dance with the duke. I was already so proud of Vernie for showing true class, but now she was being recognized as a true lady by a real nobleman.

And Leonard was a true gentleman, and not just because he was wearing a magician's tuxedo from Squiggy's uncle's wax museum. Lenny hardly laid a finger on Laverne, just giving her a little kiss on the cheek for good luck when he presented her to the other exiled royalty, and helping her to her feet when she had her unfortunate accident.

I would've liked to have stayed longer after the Duke's Dance, but I wasn't really dressed for a ball, in my jeans that got scuffed climbing out the Pizza Bowl basement window. Also, I wanted to release Lenny's little pigeon friend, so it wouldn't have to return to its sad, lonely life in the pocket of a wax figure's tux.

I said goodnight to Lenny and Laverne, although he seemed more concerned with bidding his farewell to "Walter." I promised to release the pigeon in the park that's a couple blocks from Knapp Street, so Lenny can visit it. OK, I'll probably visit it, too.

I went out to the Shotz truck that Squiggy borrowed tonight, first to take Laverne and Lenny to the ball and then to take me to the Pizza Bowl to get Lenny's royal papers and next to the ball to deliver the papers. I was relieved when he didn't want to come into the Hotel Pfister with me, but when I went back out, he was sleeping in the cab of the truck. I shook him awake.

"Where are Lenny and Laverne? And what's with the bird?"

"You can come back for them later, after you take me to the park in our neighborhood and then to our apartment building."

"Well, I am a squire, so I'll squire you home."

As I was saying goodbye to Walter and promising to bring him some birdseed, Squiggy started singing a song that at first seemed much nicer than the Squigtones' usual ballads, like "Star-Crossed" and "Night After Night." It began, "Spring is here, spring is here/ Life is skittles and life is beer/ I think the loveliest time of the year/ Is the spring, I do, don't you? Course you do." Then I realized it was "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park," by that sicko Tom Lehrer.

I slapped Squiggy's leather sleeve and hissed, "What is wrong with you?"

"He's a dumb animal. He don't understand."

"What about me?"

"You ain't so dumb, and I know you ain't a animal."

"I'm talking about how this evening you keep trying to frighten me, by talking about the mummy's tomb and how we'd all turn into cannibals if we were trapped too long in Mr. DeFazio's wine cellar."

He leered at me and said, "I do want to eat you, Shirl."

"You're disgusting!" I spat and ran home. He called after me, but I ignored him.

Of course he got there first, since he had the truck. He was waiting outside my door and said, "Hello."

"Don't speak to me! You ruined a beautiful, romantic evening with your horror stories!"

"Yeah, Lenny and Laverne did look pretty cute together, but it was their romantic evening, not yours."

I'll admit that Lenny did clean up well and looked almost dashing in the tuxedo, much better than when he and Squiggy took us on a dinner date last year and Laverne had to fix the cummerbund he was wearing across his chest. And Laverne looked surprisingly sweet and demure, especially considering she was wearing Lizzie Borden's gown. (Hopefully it can be dry-cleaned to remove the punch.). But, as I now reminded Squiggy, "They were there as friends."

"What about you and me, Shirl? Are we friends?"

In high school, I would've said no. He, Lenny, and Hector Kestenbaum were the annoying boys who were always trying to spy on me, Laverne, and our other best girlfriend, Anne-Marie Palanski, who's now a nun. But he, and Lenny, have grown on me in adulthood. (Hector is still a creep, and Laverne finally had to sic her occasional beau, Officer Norman Hughes, on Hector to get him to leave us alone.)

"Of course, Andrew, but I don't appreciate your attempts to scare me."

"I'm sorry, Shirley, I was just having fun."

"By threatening cannibalism?"

He chuckled but looked self-conscious. "No, uh, Shirley, when I said I wanted to eat you, I meant, how do I put this with delicacies? I, well, wanted to devour you with kisses."

I'd never heard Squiggy say something so romantic and yet passionate, like something out of _True Confessions_ magazine. I almost swooned! I reminded myself that this was Andrew Squiggman, my weird upstairs neighbor with the hair-worm over his forehead. And yet, well, I was tempted.

"How about one goodnight kiss, as a sign of forgiveness?"

"Hey, I've forgiven you enough for second base."

I shook my head but I did pucker up and put my arms around his shoulders, lightly pushing him against the door that he's so often burst through. Tonight he wasn't accompanied by Lenny and he wasn't wearing a silly costume. He was just a bad boy in a leather jacket who wasn't as bad as he pretended.

I'd only kissed him once before, not counting stolen kisses. At the end of the double date, Laverne and I figured we owed them goodnight kisses, and we had actually had fun with them, including freeing lobsters. (Yes, I have a history of releasing animals from captivity, like with Buttercup the horse, who's now happy on a farm out in the country.) That kiss wasn't as bad as I expected, and Squiggy definitely seemed to enjoy it. (Although I'm a good girl, I am a good kisser, as even Arthur Fonzarelli can attest.)

This kiss, well, it surprised me how good it was. His lips were soft and tender, but his tongue was warm and eager. Also, we're close in height (like me and Carmine actually), so that made a standing kiss easier than it would be with a taller man, and most men are six inches or more taller than I am. He put his arms around my back and we pressed closer together, until in a mad moment I could imagine us melting together as one.

He was now also pressed against the door enough that it fell open. (I guess Laverne didn't lock it or close it all the way when we left.) I fell on top of Squiggy in front of the coat closet and we looked at each other, stunned.

"Thank you for inviting me in, My Cherub," he said as suavely as he could.

"Andrew, you need to go get Laverne and Lenny."

"You want a orgy?"

"Squiggy, please, you promised to pick them up after the ball."

"Are you sure?" he asked, nibbling on my neck, which Carmine could tell you is one of my sensitive spots.

I reminded myself that this was not Carmine, or Fabian from my dreams. I could not let Laverne come home, perhaps by taxi, to find me in this position. "It's been a lovely evening. Let's not spoil it, or our friendship."

His sigh was half exasperated, half longing. "Woman, how am I supposed to go anywhere, with you pinning me to the floor?"

I rolled off of him, thinking of Laverne rolling down the presentation ramp when she made her big debut. Then I helped pick up Squiggy so he could go pick up Lenny and Laverne. He wanted a kiss goodbye but this time I just shook his hand, so he kissed the back of mine.

I locked the door after he left, and then I started writing in here. I'll have to rewrite this in code later, in case Laverne goes snooping in you, but at the moment, I need to lie down. Too much champagne I think. And I think Laverne will be back late anyway, since it sounded like our Cinderella wanted to stay at the ball until midnight.

_Laverne closed the diary and shook her head. Shirley was less innocent than she acted but less sophisticated than she thought. As for Laverne, she was more sophisticated than she thought and less innocent than she was two hours earlier._


	2. Two Hours Earlier

"Where's the truck?" Laverne asked, peering down the street and wondering if it was too late at night to catch a bus and if she could manage to board one in a hoopskirt.

"Maybe he forgot," Lenny suggested. "Or maybe Walter don't wanna live in the park." He looked hopefully up into the night sky.

"Is there a problem, Kwiatuszek?"

They both turned to see the distinguished-looking, middle-aged Duke of Warsaw.

"Yeah, Your Grace," Lenny answered. "Our ride is late."

"Would you like to borrow my chauffeur and limousine?"

"Hell yes!" Laverne exclaimed. Then remembering the etiquette lessons that Shirley had quickly taught her while helping her get ready at the wax museum, she curtsied, or as Lenny would say, crustied, and added, "Your Grace is too kind."

"What about Squiggy?" Lenny objected.

"What is squeeggy?"

"Sir Andrew of Squiggman is my squire, Sire."

"And our ride, Your Grace. But there's no sign of his beer truck."

"Oh. Well, why don't I have the doorman keep an eye out for your servant and let him know that you won't require his services further this evening?"

"Sounds great," Laverne jumped in, when Lenny looked uncertain.

"Fine. I'll go speak to the doorman and my chauffeur."

"Gee, I don't know about this, Laverne," Lenny said, once the duke was out of earshot. "You know Squiggy ain't gonna like being ditched or treated like a servant.

She decided not to mention the boys' entrance a week ago, with Squiggy holding the train of Lenny's cape. Instead she said, "He'll understand. And how often do people like us get to ride in a limo?"

"Well, OK," Lenny said reluctantly, "but if we see Squiggy driving down the street, we get the chauffeur to honk and get his attention so Squiggy can go with us."

Laverne wasn't sure what Squiggy would do with the Shotz truck in that case, but they'd deal with that if and when it happened. She stuck out her hand. "Deal."

To her surprise, Lenny took her hand and raised it to his lips as if he were going to kiss it. Then he lowered it for a firm handshake.

"Sir? Miss?" 

Laverne turned and saw a man in a chauffeur's cap and uniform.

Lenny dropped her hand. "Ah, yes, My Good Man. Would you be so kind as to take us to Elliot Squiggman's House of Wax?"

"Of course, My Lord. Please follow me." He led them to a 1960 Silver Cloud Rolls Royce and opened the back door for them. Lenny got in first, although Laverne thought etiquette might say she should. He ended up having to pull her in as the chauffeur pushed, so that she could get her hoopskirt inside. Then the chauffeur went around to the other side of the limo and got in the driver's seat.

Lenny gave the chauffeur directions and then the two men conducted a conversation mostly in Polish. Laverne didn't know what it was about, but Lenny did look at her and smile a couple times.

At a pause during a red light, she asked, "Uh, Len, what does 'kwiatuszek' mean?" She hoped she was pronouncing it right.

"My grandmother told me it's 'little flower' in Polish."

"Oh." So the Duke was probably talking to her, not Lenny.

She looked around the limousine, absorbing details to tell Shirley later. The interior was red and she wished she could feel the plush seats through Lizzie Borden's gown. (She also hoped she wasn't leaving punch stains.) The car radio was on and she could hear "It's Now or Never" coming through with such fidelity that she could close her eyes and swear that Elvis Presley was in the shotgun seat.

When they arrived at the wax museum, the chauffeur came around and helped Laverne out of the car, tugging at her hands as Lenny pushed from behind.

Then Lenny told the chauffeur, in English, "Kacper, please wait until we change into humbler togs and then you may take us to my pied-a-terror on Knapp Boulevard."

"Of course, My Lord," the chauffeur said and tipped his hat. Then he went back to the driver's seat and took out that day's _Milwaukee Sentinel_ to pass the time.

"Do you have a key?" Laverne asked, suddenly remembering that it was Squiggy who let them in earlier that evening, and it was well after-hours now.

"Nah, but we can go around the back."

"Hang on, Len. Shirley may be able to crawl through a window, but I am definitely more than a Size Five below the waist, especially in this get-up."

He looked at her hips for a moment and then back in her eyes and said, "They usually leave the back door unlocked. If not, I'll ask Kacper to help us break in."

She was dubious about that but she figured Squiggy's uncle wouldn't press charges.

The back door was indeed unlocked and they headed in. Lenny flipped on some lights and she found her way to the ladies' room where she had left her street clothes. It would be good to be back in a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

She slipped off her light blue high heels with relief. She would've liked to have danced more, since she loved all kinds of dancing, but Lenny wasn't exactly Carmine on the dance floor, and most of the men at the dance, the duke aside, were stuck-up snobs. So after Shirley left, Laverne and Lenny got some more hors d'ouevres and hung out talking to each other, until she suggested they go wait outside for Squiggy.

She untied her blue, laced cape and hung it on a coathook. It hadn't been much protection against the fruit punch, which mostly fell on her exposed shoulders and arms, as well as the gown. The cape would be relatively easy to clean.

She undid the ties at the back of her neck, which were helping to hold the heavy gown up. Then she tried to reach around to undo the hooks on the back of the gown but it was impossible. Shirley had had her step into the gown and then fastened it for her, joking about being Laverne's lady's maid. Laverne was not going to be able to do this alone.

She had three choices: wear the gown home and have Shirley help her out of it there, call Shirley and have her come down to the wax museum (maybe sending Kacper to pick her up in the limo), or ask the one friend who was actually in the building. Laverne hesitated and then went looking for Lenny, who she found in the Queen Victoria Room, with his black jacket off and his white shirt unbuttoned in the middle so he could look at his "birthmarks" in the long looking-glass.

She coughed. He whirled around, startled. "Oh, hi, Laverne." She felt his eyes go to her bare shoulders and upper chest, but at least he didn't bite his wrist. Then he met her eyes and said, "Maybe you're right and these are liver spots."

"I'm sure you're still 89th in line for the throne. You've got the papers to prove it."

"Right."

"Uh, Len, can you, uh, help me get out of this dress?"

His eyes widened. "Seriously?"

She came closer and said, "It's kind of a complicated dress."

He circled around her. "Yeah, I can see that." She half expected him to go call Squiggy for help, but instead he had her stand in front of the mirror as he stood behind her. "Luckily, I'm good with my hands, you know, mechanics and stuff."

"Right." She was very aware that she would soon be standing in her underwear in front of him. True, the bloomers weren't exactly revealing, but up top she just had a strapless bra. She glanced at his face in the reflection, but he was looking down at her back. And then he started fiddling with the hooks of the gown.

She would've expected him to be clumsier at this, because she always got the impression that he was inexperienced with girls. But he really was approaching this as a mechanical question, because his hands were steady and confident, almost impersonal.

And then, as Laverne could feel the gown sliding off her, Lenny softly said, "I had a good time tonight."

"So did I. Except for bathing in fruit punch."

He leaned forward and sniffed her hair, which had somehow kept some of the fancy style Shirley had put it in, with curls and ringlets and everything. "Yeah, I can still smell it." Then he plucked an orange slice off the back of her head and ate it, rind and all.

"Lenny!" she scolded.

"What? I need more Vitamin C Plus."

"That was in my hair!"

Lenny looked genuinely puzzled. "I like your hair."

She snorted. "Well, thank you."

"You're so pretty, Laverne." Then he gently lifted the hair off the left side of her neck, leaned down, and softly kissed below her ear.

She and Lenny had drunk some champagne that night but probably less than Shirley had in the half hour she was there. Laverne was mostly clear-headed now and she assumed Lenny was. She knew she could put a stop to this right now by firmly saying, "Lenny, no!" But she didn't want to stop this, not when they were just getting started.

"Thank you," she murmured, and reached up to stroke his hair, which, in honor of the formal occasion, was slicked back but not greased up. "You don't look too shabby yourself."

In the mirror, she could see Lenny's eyes widen, but whether at the compliment or her touch, she didn't know. He said, "I can taste the punch on you."

She grimaced. "Sorry."

"No, I like it." He kissed his way onto her face and ended on her lips, which were already puckered and waiting.

She wondered if she might be able to taste the punch on his lips, but the taste seemed to be just Lenny. She licked his lips, to make sure.

She heard and felt him sigh in surprise and excitement. Soon they were French kissing. He'd stolen kisses before but this was only the second time she'd kissed him. The last time, he had kissed back, but there were limits on that kiss, especially with Shirley and Squiggy in the room, and it had sort of been a pity kiss. This time, there wasn't really anything to stop them from kissing all night.

Until she got a crick in her neck. She moved her face away from his enough to say, "You're very tall."

"It only looks that way because I'm best friends with Squiggy."

"No, I mean it's tricky to kiss you standing up."

"Oh. Maybe we should find someplace to sit." Laverne spotted a piece of furniture with the label _Lady’s chair, which is low at the sides to accommodate hoop skirts._ She was just about to read the sign to Lenny when he said, "We are not amused."

"Speak for yourself," said Laverne, who was often amused by Lenny, whether or not he intended it.

"No, I mean, wasn't that what Queen Victoria was famous for saying?"

"Oh, right." She looked over at the crowned wax figure, which seemed as disapproving as those snobbish b-words at the ball.

"I'll take care of her." Lenny picked up his black tuxedo jacket from the floor and went over to his fellow royal.

Laverne wasn't sure what he intended for her or Victoria, but she went and made herself comfy on the most comfortable-looking piece of furniture in the room. So by the time Lenny draped his jacket over the head of the very short yet imposing queen of England (who was, according to Lenny's papers, his fifth cousin thrice removed), Laverne was draped in a not very ladylike way on the lady's chair. But then, she had already shed her hoopskirt, along with some of her inhibitions.


	3. Waxy Build-Up

Lenny placed the tuxedo jacket carefully and respectfully on the old lady's head, trying not to disturb her crown. He didn't want to harm the jacket or the wax figure. Also, he was delaying in order to get up his courage and his confidence. He'd been chasing Laverne for years, since high school, but he felt like a dog who actually caught a cat, or a car, and didn't know what to do with it.

He wasn't even sure how he caught her. They'd had a little champagne at the ball, but that was hours ago, and she didn't seem drunk, or even tipsy, and even when Laverne drank (mostly Shotz, loyal employee that she was), she didn't let Lenny get anywhere with her.

Maybe it was the fairytale romance of the ball, or maybe it was the moments they laughed together, like when he told the snob kneeling before him, "I'm good, but I don't know about excellent."

Or maybe it was that he had sort of taken Carmine's advice. He'd gone to the dance studio to take a lesson to prepare him for the ball. He'd never been able to dance, except for easy stuff like the Stroll or slow dances where you just held the girl and shuffled your feet.

When he asked Carmine to teach him the waltz, the Big Ragoo scoffed, "I'm not a miracle worker!" But he did give Lenny some general advice about how to treat a woman, on and off the dance floor, including "Use a light touch, don't be too grabby."

For about a decade, Lenny had had Squiggy as his role model on how to deal with girls. But he was shy with girls when he wasn't around Squiggy, and he usually felt more comfortable on double dates with his best friend. And here he was on a single date with his favorite girl, first at a fancy party, and then alone in a wax museum.

She looked so beautiful tonight, in a different way than usual. He'd told her, and the wrestling crowd, months ago that she looked like a real queen in her Queen of Knapp Street costume, and he meant it, but she looked like Disney's Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty in Lizzie Borden's gown, a honey-blonde princess, and he had planned to tell her tonight when she came back from the ladies' in her regular clothes.

But when she found him looking at his birthmarks, she had shed her cape, exposing her tan shoulders and upper chest. He remembered peering down her sundress when he and Squiggy were air-lifted off the boat they'd stowed away on.

And tonight she asked him to help her out of her dress! Maybe it was just that Shirley wasn't around, but he was honored by her trust. He promised himself he wouldn't get fresh with her, and he just tried to think of the fastenings of the gown as a puzzle to be solved.

But he couldn't help himself, so first he ate an orange slice out of her hair and then he softly kissed her neck. He kept waiting for her to slap him or tell him no, but she seemed just as interested in making out as he was.

And now she was posed on a chair, wearing just blue bloomers and a white strapless bra. He'd meant it when he told her she was the classiest girl he knew, but she was also the sexiest he'd ever been on speaking terms with. It was partly her body but it was also the way she carried herself, like she liked having a good time and knew how to show a man a good time.

Not that she was a bimbo. Lenny had the feeling she'd never gone all the way, although she'd probably gotten a lot closer than Shirley, who was saving herself for a future doctor husband.

After Laverne had thanked Lenny for his invitation to the ball, he told her that the simple peasant joy on her face was thanks enough. Then on their way out, Squiggy said, "But if you, uh, want to throw in a little royal voe-dee-oh-doe after the ball, it won't break his heart."

Lenny would've loved to voe-dee-oh-doe with Laverne, but he was sure it would never happen. Even now, as he gazed at her upper torso, he was looking forward to necking and maybe, if he was lucky, touching her boobs, at least over her bra.

She beckoned to him with one finger and he went to her like he was sleep-walking. He thought of all the times he'd sat as close as he could to her on her couch. He knew they'd be able to both fit on that wide seat if they cuddled up close.

She slid her legs off to one side and he perched on the other side. Then she put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a long, deep kiss.

At first, he just enjoyed the sweetness and warmth of her mouth, but then his hands started wandering. One played with the curls and loops of her hair, but the other stroked her bare upper back. He figured that the hooks on her bra would be simpler to work than the ones on Lizzie Borden's dress. While still soul-kissing Laverne, he undid her bra as easily as she fixed his cummerbund on their double date a year before.

She stopped kissing his mouth when her bra fell off. He braced himself for her slap. Instead she whispered in his ear, "You wanna touch my tits, Len?"

"Yeah!" he gasped. He resisted the urge to just grab them. It wasn't like they were going anywhere. In contrast, his wand felt like it wanted to levitate out of the magician's trousers, but Lenny would have to urge it to wait a spell.

She guided one of his hands on to her nearest breast. He could've found it on his own, but he appreciated the help. Her breast was very soft, except where the nipple hardened against his fingertips.

Laverne nuzzled his neck, which she'd done a couple times in the past, when getting him to do her a favor. But this felt like she was doing him a favor, however much she seemed to like it.

He started licking her neck. She giggled like it tickled and then sighed as he cupped both breasts. They necked as he played with her bosom and he couldn't concentrate on either task. And then she stuck her hand in his unbuttoned shirt, teasing not just his birthmarks but his nipples!

"God, Laverne!" he groaned. Then he couldn't help squeezing her breasts.

"Jeez, Len!" she gasped.

"Sorry," he said and kissed her cheek.

"No, I liked it. You just surprised me because your touch was so light before."

"How do you want me to touch you, Laverne?"

Now she kissed his cheek. "You really are sweet sometimes, Len." She stroked his ear softly and then tugged the lobe.

He translated that and lightly stroked the surprisingly delicate bosom of the toughest girl he knew. Then he tweaked both sturdy brown nipples at the same time.

"Yes, Len!" she gasped in his ear.

He'd made out before, usually trying to imitate his roommate on double dates. So he knew generally how this all worked, but he was learning that he'd have to learn how to make out with Laverne. He'd never been a great student, but he was eager to apply himself now.

She planted quick kisses on his neck, so he imitated that. But when she started to undo his white tie, he kissed down onto her smooth, slightly muscular shoulders, firm kisses with a little licking.

She giggled and asked, "Trying to taste the punch?"

"Mm hm." Her flesh did taste citrusy, but it was mostly DeFazioid, strong and soft at the same time. It got softer of course when he reached her bosom, but her breasts were firm and proud, the nipples particularly saucy.

"Oo, Lenny!" Laverne squealed as his tongue landed on the beginning of her swell swellings. Then she gasped, "God, Len!" as his tongue began to tease her left nipple. But when he started sucking her left boob, she just sighed wordlessly and played with his hair.

He could still taste the fruit punch on her, it having soaked through the bodice of the gown and her strapless bra. But that wasn't why he licked and sucked her bosom so hungrily. This was Laverne, his favorite girl, and he'd wanted her, wanted this, for so long. And he wasn't a chest man, or not exclusively, but he noticed the chests of every girl he met, sometimes biting his wrist if he was particularly impressed, and if he was ogling with Squiggy. He noticed Laverne's tits almost as soon as she grew them, and she wasn't a late bloomer like Shirley. He'd sort of gotten used to her boobs, being around her in her unflattering Shotz uniform, and hanging out with her at her place and the Pizza Bowl. But every once in awhile, especially if Laverne was wearing something clingy and/or revealing, it would hit him as if for the first time, Laverne had a nice rack! Not Marilyn-sized but big enough.

Until the night of the ball, Lenny hadn't been able to do more than once or twice snap her bra, and that was more playfulness than seduction. And here he was with her tits in his face and he couldn't get enough of them.

Sometimes he'd kiss her bosom gently, almost worshipfully. That made her stroke his hair tenderly and say softly, "Sweet Lenny." When he licked and teased, she'd call him "naughty Len!" and twirl his hair around her fingers. But when he sucked on her tits, she'd lose the power to form actual words, and she'd pull on his hair as if this was too much and yet not enough.

She also started arching her back and spreading her legs a little. He hesitated and then decided to go for it. The worst she could do was slap him, or maybe knee him in the birthmarks. More likely, she'd tell him, "Len, I like making out with you, but I don't go that far on the first date. Or the second."

What he did not expect when he moved his right hand down from her chest to her flat stomach and onto the waistband of her bloomers was her to say, "Len, can you go get my dress?"


	4. Coronation

Laverne found it equally unbelievable that she was making out with a count and that she was letting Lenny Kosnowski go to second base. But she liked Lenny and liked making out with him and, yes, she saw him differently after the ball.

She remembered Squiggy saying, "But if you, uh, want to throw in a little royal voe-dee-oh-doe after the ball, it won't break his heart," and Lenny biting his wrist at the thought, but at the time it was just the boys being their typical crude selves. When Lenny pleasured her chest, it was hard to think rationally, but she did have to ask herself how far she was willing to go that night, especially on a lady's chair. Of course, if things got really hot and heavy, maybe they could go to the softest bed in the Goldilocks Room, but somehow a bed felt more serious than a chair, especially since part of her wanted to make love with Lenny and then fall asleep in his arms.

When he stroked her stomach, she knew he was heading for her bloomers. She wasn't sure what his specific intentions were though. Maybe he just wanted to see a naked woman up close. But if he touched her between the legs, she might damage the chair, which probably wasn't Scotchgarded.

He looked up in surprise from the breast he'd been licking. "Your dress?" Then he frowned in disappointment. "I'm moving too fast, huh?"

Gravity and her touches had pushed his blond hair forward, making him look much cuter. But she gently pushed it out of his blue eyes and said, "No, I'll just be more comfortable sitting on the dress."

"Oh, OK." They both got to their feet, but while his back was turned as he went to get the ballgown off the floor by the mirror, she slithered out of the bloomers.

She could see by his reflection in the mirror the moment when he noticed she was standing only in her white ankle socks and her pink Saturday panties. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. When he turned to face her, clutching the blue gown in front of him, he smiled shyly and whispered, "You're so pretty, Laverne."

"Aww, and you're so sweet, Len."

"Thank you," he murmured and came over to her in a daze. She thought he might hug and kiss her, but instead he arranged the gown just so on the chair, even though she planned to disarrange it shortly. When he straightened up, her eyes were drawn downward to the "deck of cards" in the magician's trousers. She'd thought earlier, when they were necking, that he might be hard, but he hadn't pressed that part against her, so she wasn't sure.

"Please sit, Laverne."

She did and thought that he would join her like before, but he knelt before her. For a moment, she was afraid he was going to propose to her, and it would be harder to refuse him when she was almost naked. 

Then he caressed her bare legs and she was glad she'd shaved them even though she'd known they'd be covered up by bloomers.

"You have great legs, Laverne."

"You have great hands, Len." They were strong but gentle as he started to massage her thighs.

When her legs parted, it was partly of their own volition and partly from his steady pressure. She knew it wasn't too late to stop this, but she had already half decided to give herself to him if he asked.

He nuzzled her chest as his right hand grazed her panties. Was he going to tease her about teasing her?

"Lenny!" she cried impatiently.

As if this was the signal he'd been waiting for, his left hand wrapped around her left breast, while the right rubbed the crotch of her panties.

"Wow, Lenny!" she exclaimed, starting to wiggle her keister.

He didn't reply with words but instead sucked the breast he was squeezing, while simultaneously lowering her panties. Then he stroked her between the legs, lightly at first and then more firmly.

She was already moist from making out, but he made her wetter and wetter as his hand teased and explored between her legs. He soon found her button and must've realized how hard yet sensitive it was, because he was started focusing on that.

As coherently as she could, she gave him directions, like "just a little to the left" and "faster," but mostly she let her pelvic movements direct him.

After awhile his long fingers inched into her folds, while his thumb still pressed her button. He was inside her! As he stroked carefully but persistently along her walls, she thought of the bulge in the magician's tuxedo, not Walter in the jacket pocket at the ball, but a very different creature. She came imagining it.

He took his hand out of her and bit his wrist. She laughed at his old expression of lust at a time like that. Then she gasped as he licked the not fruity juice off his fingers.

"Mmm, delicious!" he declared. And then he quickly kissed down from her chest, over her belly, and below her waist.

She never shaved between her legs, although she'd carefully trim along the edges if she was going to wear a swimsuit. Laverne thought only floozies and hookers shaved pubically, women who expected a lot of men to see them naked. (It was then very early in the 1960s, but a few years later and on into the '70s, no matter how many men saw her naked, she thought it was more natural and authentic to keep her bush.)

Lenny, being a '50s guy, didn't seem to expect any different. He just murmured, "Dark blonde," and parted the hair with his hand and his nose. He kissed her lower lips softly and she almost felt like crying with surprise, joy, and anticipation.

She still did her best to guide him, but she also let him surprise her. He didn't seem to have any plan or technique, just hunger for and curiosity about her. So one minute he'd be gauging how she reacted to each lick and caress, and then the next he acted like she was a pizza with the works after an hour of bowling.

She lost track of her climaxes, but after each one, she'd see his big blue eyes gazing up at her in wonder. Then he'd plunge back in to start working on her next orgasm.

Eventually, he gasped for breath as much as amazement and said, "I need a little break."

"Come sit beside me."

He nodded and sank onto the chair, closer than they ever sat on her couch, and he always sat as close as he dared in her living room. He kicked the hoopskirt out of his way, since her writhing in ecstasy had dislodged it.

She kissed his cheek and said, "Thank you, Len."

"Hey, the simple peasant joy on your face is thanks enough."

She reached into his still half-buttoned shirt and tickled his "birthmarks." He tickled her naked ribs and belly, and they wrestled playfully on the chair. But unlike previous tickle fights, his hand slipped between her legs, while she started unfastening his black trousers.

"Oh, Baby!" he gasped in surprise, lust, and affection.

"I wanna see how hard I've made you."

"Rock hard, like always," he said, making her blush.

She had only touched one whang before, Fonzie's of course. She'd given him a couple handjobs, although not recently. He had put his hand under her skirt a few times, but he understood when she, trying to live up to the expectations of her church, her father, and her best friend, told him no. (And the handjobs had led to her most embarrassing confessions, to a priest, not Mr. DeFazio or Shirley.)

She couldn't have explained why she let Lenny rather than the Fonz be the first to touch her most secret spot. Maybe it was that she knew that it would mean more to Lenny than it ever could to a ladies' man. Or maybe it was that Lenny meant more to her than Fonzie did.

Arthur Fonzarelli was very well-hung, which may've been the source of his confidence and/or popularity. The love muscle that she pulled out of the boxer shorts with the simple Polish flag on them (a white stripe over a red stripe) was what she assumed was average-sized, and so red it looked royal purple. More importantly, it was stiff yet flexible, and exactly what she needed right then.

She rubbed against his stiffie, making it tap her button until she moaned and he groaned.

"Need you, Laverne!" he gasped desperately.

She rolled onto her back and said, "Then take me, My Lord," feeling like she was in a naughty novel, something classier than _Peyton Place_.

He grinned as he mounted her. "As you wish, Milady."

As a team, they guided his shaft into her box. She was very wet and open and he slid in easily, once they got the angle right.

He moved slowly at first, letting them both get used to it. But when at last he sank all the way in, filling her as his blond pubic hair tangled with hers, and his pelvic bone pressed firmly against her button, she came, this time shouting his name.

Then he sped up, thrusting into her so fast he was almost a blur. It seemed only moments later that he cried, "Gonna come, Laverne!"

What was left of her rational mind made her cry out, "Wait!"


	5. Divine Right

Lenny froze when Laverne put the brakes on, although his entire being desperately needed to come inside her. "Am I doing it wrong?" It was not only his first time with her, it was his first time ever.

"No, but we don't got protection."

"Oh, right." It was a little late to bring it up, but he supposed better late than never.

"Tonight is not the night to find the 90th in line for the Polish throne."

His baby-maker would've argued otherwise, but he was used to doing what Laverne asked, whether it was grocery-shopping or buttering her popcorn. So he reluctantly retreated from Paradise. He tried not to whine as he asked, "Could you give me a handjob?"

"Of course, but stand up."

He clumsily got to his feet, trying not to trip on the hoopskirt. He looked down on the woman he most looked up to as she scooted closer to the edge of the chair. Then she smiled up at him as she wrapped one strong beer-capping hand around his lever. He tenderly stroked her face with his cleaner hand.

She played with him like she'd done this before, to other guys, but he was more grateful than jealous. And then she kissed the tip and he felt a confusion of lust, affection, and disappointment. His church, his best friend, and the era he grew up in told him, in hushed murmurs and snickering whispers, that only bad girls gave blowjobs. He didn't want Laverne to be a bad girl. He was relieved when she started licking him and did it badly.

This was clearly her first time at this and he felt honored. So when she sucked him and gagged, he stroked her hollowed cheeks. He was about to offer to pull out, when she stroked the cheeks of his bottom. He instantly came in her mouth, moaning in the deep voice he used only for the Squigtones, "Yes, Laverne!"

She hesitated and then swallowed. He played with the blue bow that somehow still clung to her now very disheveled hair and he wondered how he could show how grateful he was.

He withdrew and was just about to sink to his knees and eat her out again, since he loved the taste of her and it made her so happy, even though he'd never snacked on a snatch before, when she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said, "I need to freshen up."

He nodded and said, "Me, too."

So she went back to the ladies' room and he found the men's room. He looked at himself in the mirror, his clothes open but still on, his face a whirlwind of emotions.

He'd actually been with Laverne! His Nixon hadn't touched her for more than a few minutes total, but it was enough to transform him. He felt like a king after a coronation. She'd crowned his head like they were wed, from sea to shining sea.

He wondered if he should propose to her again. Last time it was because they thought some other guy might've gotten her pregnant. This time, it would be because he wanted to be with her every night. Also, she was his first and he could no longer picture being with another girl.

When Squiggy told him the story that inspired their song "Night After Night," he said, "First times are overrated. The girl bleeds all over the place, and if it's your first time, too, then you don't know what you're doing anyway."

"That don't exactly sound romantic," Lenny had observed.

"It ain't."

"Then why do people bother?"

"Because it gets better, much better. Not with her of course, because who wants to sleep with the same broad night after night?"

Lenny cleaned that up to "look at the same broad" for the Shotz talent show, but he also included Squiggy's observation that "even true love can be boring night after night."

Squiggy fell in and out of love easily but dramatically, like with Barbara, the chick who dumped him and who Laverne told off on the phone, leading to the double date. Lenny moved more slowly, and even now he wouldn't have said he was in love with Laverne, but he thought that might come in time.

He decided he would ask her to go steady. He had an ancestral ring that his great-grandmother had smuggled out of Poland when the family left in disgrace, and he'd ask Laverne to wear that around her neck. (He'd been confused by the Elvis song a couple years earlier, until Laverne explained that the ring went on a chain.)

He didn't have the ring on him, but he'd ask her the next day. Right now he should change out of the magician's costume and back into his street clothes. (He'd keep his flag boxers on of course.). As he put his red jacket on over his white T-shirt, he thought of Laverne sewing on one of her L's for his "LONE WOLF." But even lone wolves could have mates.

When he went back to the Queen Victoria Room, it was empty, except for the wax figure of course. Had Laverne run out on him? Maybe she took the limo, which he knew the duke had meant as more of a loan to her than to him. Nah, Laverne was too loyal to ditch him like that, especially after being so intimate.

Maybe she was playing hide and seek in the dark wax museum. That would be fun in a different way. He wasn't sure where to start, but he looked around this room for clues.

It didn't take him long to spot the note tucked into the frame of the looking-glass. When he plucked it out, he recognized from the raised lettering that it was torn from her invitation to the ball. And it was her handwriting for the word "Goldilocks."

Lenny and Squiggy had spent hours in this museum, so Lenny knew immediately that Laverne was in the Goldilocks Room, the one with all the beds. He grinned as he put the note in the right pocket of his jeans.

He found her lying on the red-and-white Mama Bear bed, in her street clothes, except for the sneakers tucked under the bed. Her hair was back to normal, except for the bow, and spread on a pillow.

As he slipped off his own sneakers, he asked, "What do you wanna do now, Laverne?"

"Cuddle and talk."

He nodded. He wanted that, too.

He crawled into the very soft bed and took Laverne into his arms. She snuggled closer and kissed him on the mouth. He licked her lips, tasting himself on her and remembering licking the lips between her legs. He put his hand under the hem of her T-shirt and started to work his way up.

She stopped kissing him. "Len, wait."

"We can just make out this time. We don't have to do everything."

"Lenny, I had a lot of fun tonight, but let's not make this into something that it isn't."

He moved his hand away. "I know I wasn't very good, but it was my first time and I'll get better."

She kissed his cheek. "Oh, Len, you're my first, too."

He looked into her clever but honest green eyes in confusion. "But you didn't have a hyphen!"

"A hymen?"

"I guess, yeah." Squiggy had told him about the thin veil of skin you had to pierce, which was why virgins bled and why you were supposed to be gentle with them.

"Do you remember when I had my pregnancy scare?"

"How could I forget?"

She chuckled and then sighed. "Well, the doctor told me I was still a virgin. But, um, since then, well, I've played with myself a few times."

He bit his wrist at the thought. He knew the next time he played with himself, he'd imagine that.

She took his hand and said, "You're going to give yourself a permanent hand-hickey if you keep doing that." She softly kissed his wrist.

"You're so sweet, Laverne."

She shook her head. "I'm really not. I'm trying to explain why this has to just be our special secret."

"I don't understand."

"I like you and I think you're already a super lover, even if you need more staying power, which is partly my fault for making you wait so long."

"Laverne, I understand why we couldn't do it in high school. We were just kids."

She snorted. "I meant tonight."

"I think we went pretty quick from first base to home plate, and it was my idea to eat you."

She blushed and whispered in his ear, "I don't even know how I'm going to tell Father Gucci about that!"

He whispered back, as his hand squeezed her right tit over her clothes, "You said it was our special secret."

She moaned but pushed his hand away. "Not from God!"

"God already knows, Laverne. He's everywhere."

She sighed. "Yeah, and we sinned, a bunch."

"He'll forgive us," he said and nibbled on her earlobe.

"It's not just that, Len. I like you but I don't got that special feeling a girl gets for a guy."

"Oh." He pulled away and sat up, his legs dangling off the side of the bed, his back to her. He tried not to make eye contact with Baby Bear as he said, "Did you think I was gonna propose or somethin'?"  


"Well, no, but I thought maybe you wanted this to be a regular thing."

He shrugged and said, "I thought it'd be fun to fool around every once in awhile. But it's like Squiggy said, it's not like this is breaking my heart."

She sat up and put her hand on his arm. "Len."

He shook her off and stood up, his back still to her. He faced the Papa Bear figure as he said, "Come on, we've kept Kacper waiting long enough."

He heard her swallow her words and he tried not to think of her swallowing his seed. She silently got out of bed and they both wordlessly put on their shoes, then they left the wax museum out the front door, forgetting to pick up the costumes they'd stained.


	6. A Noteworthy Epilogue

Dear Uncle Elliot,

  


I got your note and will show it to Lenny as soon as he gets back from church. (He's been there all day, even though he usually don't go every Sundae.) He got in after I did last night and we didn't talk much before he left early this morning, so I don't know too much about what he did on his Royal date, but he did say that the ball got a little rough and he and Laverne got punch thrown at them. (Not punches, I mean fruit punch. You know these decade ant nobels.) Then Lenny and Laverne went to your wax museum and played hide and seek for a couple hours.

So I guess the costumes got damaged those ways, for which I am very sorry. I will give that boy a Stern talking-to when he returns. I hope you will not hold this against me and will let me continue to borrow costumes in the future.

(The slinky green shantuse number that you had made for Ertha Kit but wasn't right for that figure, I hope you won't send back but will set aside for me. Well, not for me, although I would look stunning in it, but for a certain Miss Shirley Feeney. Not to be indiscrete, but we had a lovely evening last night and I wanna reward the dame somehow, because she's crazy about me. She's paler and definitely not as curvy as Miss Kit, but she's the same height and she's got a certain something, plus she's Irish, so she looks good in green.)

Don't tell Lenny that part. The poor kid told me he just got a pity kiss last night. It just goes to show you. He don't have the Squiggman salve what fair, and being a count don't count for much. If it wasn't for our double dates, my Lenny wouldn't get no action.

Please give my love to Aunt Hilda and all my little cousins, and of course Queen Victoria and Abraham Lincoln and everyone.

  


Your nephew,

Andy

  


P.S. Do you want your homing pidgeon back? It's the one from the magician's tuckseedo and Lenny wanted to adopt it, but Shirley set it free in the park. It showed up at my window late this morning, probably looking for Lenny. I think it would cheer the poor guy up. And remember, one good plegg and the kid is practically a queen. Maybe there'll be a Squiggman's House of Wax in Woresaw someday.


End file.
